A Dark Place
by Life on the Murder Scene
Summary: Many call him selfish for what he did, and at first I was angry at him too, just like the rest of the wizarding world, but then I came to realise that he was trapped inside his own head, trapped by the dark thoughts that lurked there.
1. Chapter 1

"The world is a very dark place now," lamented the wizened man, "there once was a time where the light side were in control, a time when murder and dark wizards were too unreal. But that was a long time ago… Back when the Dark Lord returned to power, back when the fate of the wizarding world rested on the shoulders of a lone teenage boy. Many call him selfish for what he did, and at first I was angry at him too, just like the rest of the wizarding world, but then I came to realise that he was trapped inside his own head, trapped by the dark thoughts that lurked there. That was when I learned to forgive and pity the great Harry Potter…"

* * *

Harry Potter sat alone in his darkened bedroom at Privet Drive. Guilt gnawed at his mind every waking second. Dumbledore was dead, it was all his fault and nobody would be able to convince him otherwise. Why hadn't he tried to save him? Why did he just stand there?  
He had only been home a week but already the letters were piling up. Every letter he received filled him with an unexplainable hatred. How dare they try and comfort him, they didn't understand, how could they? They had no idea about the significance of Dumbledore's death; Dumbledore had left this lifetime with unfinished business, namely helping Harry in his quest to destroy the horocruxes. Besides they didn't truly care about him, no, they had been fed a load of crap from the Prophet; they just wanted a miracle, a scapegoat, a _saviour.  
_Inside Harry was angry, angry about the secrets that had been kept from him in the past, angry because seemingly the whole world now rested on his skinny shoulders, and he was angry at Dumbledore or more specifically at what he had done. He was sick and tired of people taking the bullet for him, so to speak. First his parents, the Sirius, and now Dumbledore.  
Harry James Potter was sick of this life and it was beginning to show. 


	2. Connecting

Harry Potter was not the type of person who liked to express his feelings; he felt that outward displays of emotion were a sign of weakness. He just kept it all inside until it practically exploded and that was exactly what he was doing now. Harry refused to just break down and cry about how bad his life was just yet, he still had some pride and dignity left deep inside.   
He was wallowing in self pity, more like drowning in it sometimes, and his wallowing would only be interrupted by two things; Aunt Petunia's bony hand pushing food through the cat flap that had been installed the summer after his first year. Or the call of nature. The scrap of food that was usually pushed through remained almost completely untouched, his guilt and pity ridden stomach somehow suddenly unable to keep its contents inside, a now nasty side effect of eating. His gaunt and sickly appearance did not bother him, in fact he welcomed it, it connected him with his now distant childhood, a childhood that had been brutally snatched from him at age 11. Even though it was not the happiest of childhoods it had been a time in his life that was relatively worry free and filled with wide-eyed-innocence. An innocence he no longer possessed, he had been force to grow up too quickly and yet was still treated as a child. Frustration gave way to anger, and anger turned into self loathing and pity. Sometimes his anger was directed at certain people, sometimes it was directed at wizarding kind in general, he hated having to be their saviour, a fate he could not escape. And sometimes his anger was focused at himself, for having so far let the wizarding world down, and at times, not having the strength to win this fight. Self hatred would course through his veins at this point. This is when Harry would give in and listen to the demons inside his head. They would talk of his failure, and of his inability to defeat the Dark Lord, they would laugh at him and poison his self confidence. They would tell him he was worthless and he would believe them. So it was the great Harry Potter became lost, an empty shell, a ghost of his former self, he ceased to live, he only existed.


End file.
